


Of motel rooms and bandmates

by zort



Category: Slipknot (Band)
Genre: Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, well... blink and you'll miss it breathplay really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:35:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zort/pseuds/zort
Summary: Chris and Jim are sharing a motel room and obviously sleeping isn't on the agenda.
Relationships: Chris Fehn/Jim Root
Comments: 8
Kudos: 30





	Of motel rooms and bandmates

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hybryd0](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hybryd0/gifts).



> All right, so this got started maaaaaybe 10 years ago (for realz.... -_-) and finished about 2 months ago. So i'm posting it as an ass-kicking of sorts to possibly start writing again.
> 
> Also my headcannon is that the band shares rooms to cut costs and it's nice and conveniant for smut purposes.

They always end up in rather shitty motels, even if they made it pretty big, it seems like being so many people in the band has doomed them to shitty motels. Well, they used to be a lot shittier so maybe fame did improve things somewhat. 

Chris pushes the key in with a low sigh, feeling cranky, frustrated, tired and on edge all at once. The door resists so he pushes harder, and he ends up fully pressed against the flat surface, one big hand around his wrist. He doesn’t get much time to react as the door gives in. They stumble into the room inelegantly, Chris trips on a bag and doesn’t nosedive into the wall only because the hold on his wrist is unrelenting, and less clumsy than he is. 

He groans and looks up from under his hair, to Jim’s feral smile. And his crankiness comes back with a vengeance, because today’s lack of comfort sits solely at his over-sized feet. Jim is still holding onto his wrist uncomfortably tight, and kicking their bags in so he can push the door back close. Chris glares, attempts to free his arm, fails miserably and finds himself crowded against a hard surface again, except this time he’s facing Jim. 

It’s difficult to keep struggling, even if he wanted to, when Jim’s erection radiates warmth against his hip.

“You gonna behave?”

For a moment, Chris considers: he could give in right now and save himself some bruises, or he could push back as hard as he can against Jim who is taller and slightly stronger, or he could lash out, because he’s still cranky and frustrated and it’s all Jim’s fault. In the end, he just shakes his head and struggles to free his wrist. 

Jim retaliates by pushing him harder into the wall and catching his other wrist, pinning them both above his head. Chris feels caught and tiny, which is a strange feeling, but not an unpleasant one. He stops struggling and tilts his head up, lips parted in obvious invitation. Jim doesn’t waste anymore time and kisses him hard and demanding against the dirty plaster of the motel wall.

Chris wants to get to Jim’s skin, to undress him fast, popping buttons carelessly, and scatter clothes everywhere around the shitty room. Fuck knows he’s been waiting for thislong enough. He grumbles, pushing his erection against Jim who pulls back and chuckles, the fucking bastard.

“Y’know, after this morning, I watched you all day, Chris. I could see your erection coming and going with your motions. How did it feel to know you were kept ready for me? That you agreed to have that plug in all day and not to do anything until I decided?”

Chris fucking hates Jim when he does that. The bastard knows how hard it is for him to produce words, much less sentences when he’s pinned against a wall like that. Talk about being kissed silly. He whines his answer, and Jim smiles, affection obvious in his eyes and Chris groans again, demanding and annoyed and so fucking frustrated.

He tries to wriggle free again, but once again Jim isn’t letting go. Powerful fingers dig harder into his wrists and the sound he makes is full of demanding lust. He isn’t even ashamed at the way he’s rubbing against Jim, if what he thinks wasn’t clear enough.

Jim kisses him a few more times, pushing him sideways on the wall until they’re in the room. Chris almost whines when he isn’t pinned against the wall anymore, he likes that feeling of helplessness. Except Jim hasn’t let go of him and is now maneuvering him over to the bed. Chris resists, just a little, just to feel restrained.

They drop on the bed. The mattress produces a worrying sound, but neither of them pays much attention to it. Chris’s hands are pulling Jim’s shirt open swiftly and a moment later, he throws it somewhere random, just as he attacks Jim’s chest with kisses and nips. He can’t really focus on it for very long, because Jim has his jeans opened and is tugging to pull them down. 

The elastic band of his boxers catches his cock and stays there, he grumbles ready to wriggle them down, but Jim’s big, powerful hands are on his hips and he can’t move, and fuck does he want to move when Jim’s mouth is right fucking there and he fucking can’t get him any closer. His groan turns into a whine turns into a mangled version of please but all that gets him is Jim’s leg pressing between his and he’s even more uncomfortable and frustrated and- 

“Fuck… C’mon! Please!”

Jim tuts and shakes his head. “Dun move…”

His voice is soft and maybe it could pass for a suggestion, but Chris knows it is anything but, and now he’s desperate and he doesn’t want to push anymore. He wants Jim to stop toying with him, he wants the plug out, he wants… He wants so fucking much he’s vibrating from it.

Jim hushes him, kisses gently over his lower abdomen and finally, finally finishes pulling his clothing out of the way. Chris hears himself babbling a mixture of “Yeah...”, “Please...” and “Thank you, thank you, thank you” as his legs are spread further. He closes his eyes, doesn’t dare watching, pretty sure that if he does he’ll do something stupid like try to grab Jim’s hair and pull him up for a kiss. And wouldn’t that be a shame with how good he’s being right now?

He whines, teeth so firmly pushed into his lower lip that he tastes blood. But what else is he supposed to do if he’s not allowed to move while Jim finally, finally, oh god yes, at fucking last, pulls the plug out of him? 

For all of a second, it feels good and so worth it, and then the emptiness slams into him full force and he doesn’t buck up, he doesn’t know how. 

“Please, Jim, please, fuck me! Now! Please!”

Chris thinks he’s probably going to break down and cry, he can feel the tears right there, but the bed dips below his ass and gives that ominous creek again. But who cares? There’s Jim pushing into him at last and it’s glorious like the plug has been promising all day. He’s so sensitive, he almost comes right then.

“Don’t!”

Jim grunts against his ears, teeth snapping into the crook of his neck and dropping nasty little bites that hurt but won’t leave any mark. Chris’s head falls back opening himself up for more except there is very little room for that under the bigger man. The rhythm is relentless and now there’s a massive hand around his neck and he just goes boneless when the fingers squeeze, trapped and fucked and so completely at Jim’s mercy. 

He comes without any warning, burying his face into the other man’s neck, and only realizes Jim must have come too when he’s suddenly half crushed under the guitarist. For a minute or two he just breathes shallowly, and randomly quivers from the aftershock, then he pats Jim’s shoulder gently.

“Move, yeah? This isn’t the sexy kinda breathplay…”

Chuckling lowly Jim pulls out carefully, and rolls to the side pulling him along. “Now you have standards?”

Chris swats at his arm a bit more forcefully, but not much. There really is no point in ruining this afterglow, he’s waited for it long enough today and he’s still feeling like he’s floating. He decides answering can wait ‘til after they’ve slept, or y’know never. He drifts asleep, hoping that the creek he heard again won’t bother them until morning.

[the end]

**Author's Note:**

> Find me : [incredizort](https://incredizort.tumblr.com/)


End file.
